Five Years Later

Chapter Seventeen: The Loss

[writer's note] I'm so so so so so sorry [end writer's note]

The chains were heavy on Dean's wrists as he dragged them down the corridor of the prison, Cas trailing behind him with a limp to his step. Screams sounded from a nearby cell, and the sound of Negan's bat dragging across the floor soon followed after the cries faded into silence. There were splatters of blood that had traveled out to the hallway and stained the gray tiles on the floor. Dean walked around them gingerly, careful to keep his sneakers from getting stained.

"Keep moving. Nothing to see here," a voice snarled from within the cell. Dean didn't need to see who it was to know it was Negan. The bloodied bat appeared first, barbed wire dripping with indescribable remains, and Dean glanced away instinctively, sparing himself the traumatic memories.

They continued to walk down the hallway, footsteps echoing against the walls just as the screams had only moments before. It was over now—that poor prisoner was given away from his misery and let back into the arms of angels, or whatever now watched over Heaven in the chaos that was the apocalypse.

"You okay?" Cas whispered, his head down as Negan walked behind them. The whisper was so soft and so quiet that Dean didn't expect it to carry all the way to him, several feet away, and still be audible, but it did.

"No." Dean whispered in reply, his throat burning with the effort to breathe in between the words that followed. "But I love you."

"I love you too." Cas replied, which earned an angry nudge from Negan. He faltered for a moment, surprised by the force of Negan's aggression, but quickly settled back into the pace of walking they had taken up before. Their chains still dragged behind them, something not necessarily needed for their execution, but added, as Negan put it, a welcome aesthetic.

***

It was dark outside for so late in the morning, but the shadows that were cast over the charred and courtyard could easily be attributed to the storm clouds that were rolling in overhead. The base had been destroyed by the fire, which had long since been calmed by the freshly fallen snow. The only areas that still stood were the top floor, severed from all else and connected by the stairwell, which acted as the skeletal spine for the structural integrity of the prison below and the penthouse above.

Walkers had been drawn by the flames from the other night and now they milled below where Negan had taken Cas and Dean. It was cold on the roof, and Dean could hear the growling of the walkers below and the crackling of lightning above. Snowflakes that had no shape or beauty to them began to fall from the heavy, gray clouds that obscured the sky from view. In their midst pelted small raindrops that stung where they struck Dean's skin, but he thought of it as relief for the fever that raged inside of him.

"I know you guys have been worried about this damn execution and the consequences of getting to spend last night together in the cell." Negan fiddled with his bat, the barbed wire around its wood freshly wound. Behind him from the door came Logan with Jess handcuffed in front of him, her eyes swollen from crying. "There is only going to be one death today, if you all play along."

"What?" Cas narrowed his eyes. Dean stepped away, the chains dragging behind him in unison with each of his footsteps. Jess had on that beautiful red dress he remembered seeing her in, made of silk that was now stained with splatters of blood. It didn't appear to be her own, but regardless, Dean felt a pang of worry for her.

"You two get to be together, but Jess has to die for you." Negan smirked, clenching his jaw. "And you both have to go—today, in fact. But you will be together, which is all you two have been hoping for since you found one another again or some shit."